My son Jamie had a special friend he called “Mr. Tomorrow,” a garbage man who visited every morning for juice and company. I thought he was just a friendly face until I learned the truth about his connection to our family.
I’m a single mom who never knew my father. The house he left was my only link to him and my legacy to Jamie. One morning, I saw Jamie hugging an older man outside, sharing juice and laughter. Jamie explained the nickname came from the man’s promise to see him again tomorrow, no matter what.
When my mother unexpectedly arrived, she harshly judged the man and forbade Jamie from seeing him. Then Leo, the garbage man, called my mother by name, revealing he was Jamie’s grandfather—the father I never knew.
The days that followed were quiet and sad, but I sought out Leo and invited him home. Jamie’s joy upon seeing him again was overwhelming. Despite my mother’s objections, I knew Leo belonged in our lives.
That night, our home felt alive again. Family is sometimes about forgiveness and embracing those who return.
